


Stargazing

by koalathebear



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:16:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set some time in an AU, bucolic future when everything has somehow worked out for that crazy couple :)  Written before I knew anything about season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazing

"I don't know anything about stars." Sara confides as they stare up at the black sky.

"Same." Michael admits, his light eyes studying the countless stars that are scattered across the vast emptiness. It surprises Sara to learn that there are some things that Michael Scofield doesn't know.

A blanket is spread on the grass in his back garden. She lives in an apartment and the only star-gazing she can do is to poke her head out the window and peek at the stars through the tall buildings. Michael on the other hand has elected to purchase a house on the outskirts of the city.

"C-Note knew more about that kind of thing. Sometimes he'd find our way by the sky." Michael tells her. "So many nights, we'd be sleeping outside, nothing to do but count the stars."

"Did you ever wish on them?" she asks him.

Michael shakes his head. "That's for kids," he tells her with a look.

Sara smiles. The air is cool and she can feel a breeze against her skin. Michael's body at her side is strong and warm. If she reaches out her hand just a few inches, she can touch him, but she keeps her hands by her side and doesn't move.

While he was on the run, they were able to snatch handful of achingly brief moments together. The precious time was used to explain, apologise, talk, listen and plan. During those encounters, neither ever dared to touch the other. Time was always too short. A touch might have led to a kiss and both knew that a kiss could be dangerous.

During his time as a fugitive, there were secret phonecalls and hurried meetings disguised as chance encounters. Sara forgave him a long time ago. It's Michael who hasn't been able to forgive himself.

Since his return, they have talked of many things. They talk all the time, there is so much to say but his eyes frequently drop to her mouth, drift across her skin before they return to her eyes. His gaze is filled with questions he doesn't voice and she can see the unspoken want in his eyes. She knows that he must see something in her eyes - something that burns fiercely inside of her. Neither ever reaches out to touch the other.

It's hard to believe that it's all over now. Finally. At Lincoln and Veronica's wedding, Sara listened intently as Michael gave a speech. She saw the way his eyes returned to her again and again. At the dinner, she avoided dancing with him even although she was painfully aware that his cool, light-eyed gaze was constantly following her around the room.

Their 'relationship' is in a strange no-man's land. They speak all the time. They go out on what other people might call dates. Nonetheless, when they walk down the street, they walk side by side, just inches apart but never touching. At the end of the evening, they will make plans for then next time they'll see each again but there's no good-night kiss, no clasp of the hands. He will phone her at night and they will lie in their respective beds, staring into the darkness as they talk. Both are articulate and they share stories and anecdotes of past lives and experiences. They are filling in the gaps, permitting the other to receive a glimpse into their background.

Michael's voice on the phone is like a caress, low, soft and intimate. Sara's uninhibited laugh always makes Michael's body tighten with hunger. Yet skin never brushes against skin and hands never slide across a shoulder, down a cheek. The days have become weeks and the weeks have become months. Michael knows the details of Sara's work as she knows his. They have met each other's co-workers and everyone assumes that they're sleeping together. Instead, both are meticulously, almost painfully careful not to let fingers brush inadvertently. When Sara stumbles on the road, Michael reaches out instinctively to catch her but Sara will laugh and hold up a hand to assure him that she is all right - and also to make sure that he does not touch her.

They haven't discussed it. It's odd given that they talk about everything else. Sara has shared more with Michael about the darkness than she has ever told anyone. His eyes have filled with tears as he has listened to the agony in her voice as she recounts the first time she used morphine. He has listened in pained silence as she describes her actions with self-loathing. Sara now knows about things at which she had only guessed. The lonely, vulnerable child that was Michael Scofield. She knows about his broken childhood. He has told her of it with unflinching matter-of-factness. His feelings for his brother, his father, his dead mother. At last, she thinks she might understand this aloof and shuttered man with his enigmatic face.

Sara stares up at the stars again, watching the way they blink at her as if they know something she doesn't. She looks over and sees that Michael has turned his head slightly and he is watching her silently in the darkness. She has no way of telling how long he has been watching her.

"What?" she asks him.

"I lied." he says quietly.

She looks confused.

He smiles wryly and indicates the stars. "I _did_ make a wish. Just about every damned night." He doesn't say anything else but his words hang in the air between them.

She remains very, very still as his hand reaches out to brush the hair from her face. She closes her eyes and a tiny exhaled breath escapes her. He is lying very close to her now. She can feel the heat of his body against hers. She doesn't want to open her eyes. When Michael Scofield looks at the world, he analyses it, breaks it down into its component parts, scrutinises the pieces assesses how things work. She doesn't want to see his cool gaze deconstructing the puzzle that is Sara Tancredi.

"Open your eyes, Sara," he whispers.

She ignores him. She can hear him breathing.

"Please ...." his voice is a whisper.

She opens her eyes. His eyes are warm, not cool and there is nothing clinical in his gaze. His eyes are dark and they are filled with emotion. His voice is uncertain. "I ... I don't know how to ..."

Sara finds herself smiling and she cups his face in her hands, caressing him and the jolt of sensation shocks them both.

"But I do," she whispers and draws him down to her. They finally taste of each other again. Nothing else matters anymore - and that's exactly how it should be.

**The End**


End file.
